


The War is Won

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Focus on Zevran, Romance, Spoilers for DAO, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The battle of Denerim ended in their favour. The soldiers cheer, delight runs through every person there... except Zevran. All he can do is dash off to Fort Drakon, worried for the lover that dealt the final blow to the Archdemon.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Warden
Kudos: 16
Collections: Dragon Age Den fic collection





	The War is Won

**Author's Note:**

> This was a part of a gift exchange in a Dragon Age discoed server I am in! I had a really good time writing it, honestly!

Zevran could hardly believe his own two eyes. The archdemon was… dead? A beast, capable of commanding an entire army, no, the entire Darkspawn race (if the Wardens’ reports on the creatures were to be believed)... had been killed? Soldiers, warriors, rogues, and mage sof all sorts broke out in loud, cacophonous cheers as the gigantic, horrifying dragon fell to the ground of Fort Drakon. If there was a moment where every single person in a country felt a single emotion, it was this moment, and this singular emotion was joy. In fact, the sole exception to the overwhelming delight and ecstasy coursing through the Warden’s army was Zevran himself. There was definitely some satisfaction, some happiness to know that his job was done, and done right. But at the same time… What of Neria?

She had pulled him aside, the night before the final battle against the Archdemon and its horrifying forces was undertaken. She explained that the only way for an Archdemon to truly die was for a Grey Warden to kill the archdemon personally… and then the man or woman to deliver the blow would perish also. She had told him that Morrigan had proposed a means of killing the dragon without it resulting in her end, but it didn’t at all protect Zevran from the terror that coursed through his mind. The crowds that surrounded Zevran didn’t help, either. The numerous warriors, rogues, and mages cheering and celebrating served as a frustratingly effective barricade between him and the one place, and the one person, he wanted to reach. 

Zevran had been stationed by Neria to defend the gates of Denerim, holding the line against a horde of vile darkspawn monstrosities. When he thought logically, Zevran knew it was the right decision- an elf with a pair of daggers and a flair for the dramatic can carve a swath through an enemy line, but faced with a flying, ancient dragon, and he’s be unable to do anything more agonising than yell mean words at it. Still, it didn’t stop him from wishing he was up there with the woman that Zevran had unexpectedly found himself falling in love with. Zevran was grateful that he retained his incredible skill in darting through swaths of people, darting past one soldier after the other. 

Zevran was thankful for the miracle that no-one stopped him as he darted through the joyous crowd, his daggers falling from his grip as he slipped past the dented, burned, scarred doors to Fort Drakon. Thankfully, there were far fewer people within the ancient building, A number of elves, humans, and dwarves stood, surrounded by corpses laid down upon the floor. Some were friendly, and far, far more were darkspawn. Despite temptation, Zevran didn’t at all stop to stomp upon one of the vile beasts, and instead forced himself to scale the tower. Almost every muscle in Zevran’s body burned, familiar pain lacing through his system as he forced himself to move more and more. He hadn’t stopped for over an hour, and as much as Zevran knew he was resilient, there was a limit to how much he could do in a single day.

Soon enough, the assassin managed to reach the top floor of Fort Drakon, forcing air into his lungs as desperately as possible. His golden hues scoured the roof, desperately trying to find the woman that he loved. Quickly, he noticed the corpse of the archdemon, the gigantic dragon’s corpse lying motionless upon the burnt and cracked ground. Nearby, he saw her. Forcing himself to move once more, Zevran crossed the roof in mere seconds, in spite of every nerve in his body burning, trying to force him to stop. 

Collapsing to his knees, Zevran feared the worst, as he saw his lover laying upon the hard, uncomfortable ground. His heart felt like it was stopping… until he noticed the soft rising and falling of Neria’s chest. The elven mage had somehow done the impossible! She faced an archdemon in single combat, killed it, and lived to tell the tale! Zevran tried to find words to say, as Neria’s eyes cracked open, and her lips curled into a grin. He couldn’t think of anything to say. But he did know what he had to do. Bending over, he pressed his lips against Neria’s, his fingers tangling in her locks. With surprising energy, Neria reciprocated, their embrace just as magical as the young woman’s abilities. 

Zevran didn’t know how long the kiss lasted, and didn’t give a damn. The entire world, in his mind, was Neria. And he loved it, almost as much as he did her.


End file.
